Life Left To Go
by yourdyingwish
Summary: "I'm sorry, my laugh is really obnoxious." Bruno Mars. Bruno Mars. You can do this. "No, I think it's sexy." Never listen to Zuko Agni's advice...ever.–unrelated drabbles–
1. Just the Way You Are

A/N: Um. So I'm not sure what this is. Basically my sister's been forcing me to listen to her pop-y Bruno Mars music. So I've taken revenge and used it against Aang. Poor Aang. This is modernized (kind of). Honestly, I'm not sure just what this'll fall under. It's just vague enough for you too fill in the blanks. Well, this will probably just be a space for drabbles. I get bored easily and they're _so_ much easier to write than actually plot-filled stories. Plus I'm just too lazy. Review, please? I take requests.

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**Just The Way You Are**

"Zuko. I need your help."

"With what?"

"…mrphgrl's."

"Excuse me?"

"Girls! I need your help with girls! Okay? Geez!"

"Fine. Fine. Calm down. What about girls?"

"Well, there's this girl I like–"

"Katara."

"No! …alright yeah. But I don't know what to do."

"Why don't you go ask Sokka for help?"

"Been there. Done that. Not going back."

"Okay, fine, but you owe me. Here's what Uncle's told me about girls…"

o0o0o0o0o

_Her laugh, her laugh; she hates, but I think it's so sexy._

"I'm sorry," she starts, palm latched over her mouth. "My laugh is really obnoxious."

"_Who's that singer all those girls like again? Um…Bruno Mars! Listen to some of his songs–that might help."_

Bruno Mars. Bruno Mars. Bruno Mars. You can do this.

"No, I think it's sexy."

It's not sexy, actually. It _really_ is obnoxious. It's a combination of snorts and giggles that tumble out her lips accompanied by a red face and loud gasps for breath.

Not the epitome of sexy at all.

Another fresh wave of snorts spill out her mouth. When she realizes that I'm not laughing with her, she stops. Suddenly her hand is on my forehead and contemplativeness is scratched onto her features. She tilts her head to the side and her brown ponytail swishes with the movement.

"Are you feeling okay?" she asks tentatively, withdrawing her hand from my now bright scarlet face. How embarrassing. No, worse than embarrassing. I was mortified. No, even worse than that.

I was embarrified, which is, without a doubt, the most awful thing you can be.

I ducked my head to the side to try to hide my blush. "Your face is on fire," she states, aghast. No such luck.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Her natural motherly concern is normally endearing. But right now I'd find it a whole lot better if the 'motherly' was dropped from it.

"Just fine," I mutter under my breath.

Curse Zuko.

Curse Uncle.

Curse Bruno Mars and his songs full of lies.


	2. Mercy

A/N: ohmigod. Maiko. The end of the world is near. Did I make Mai ooc? I try to steer clear of writing her because she's just so awesome and I'm always afraid I'll screw her up.

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**Mercy**

i. She wakes up to an empty bed. Her hair is spilling onto the pillow and the sheets are on the floor. The room is unbearably warm. Stifling hot, actually. Which is way she doesn't understand why she feels so cold.

ii. Her fingers linger as she twirls strands of hair into a traditional Fire Nation style. It's strange how she spends her younger years arguing with her mother about getting it cut short and here she is; hiding under a Nation's tradition. She tries to bat her eyes and smile (her lips twitch upward mockingly) like the man–_boy_ she loves isn't going to run away.

It's no use.

She rips out the intricate design and presses her palms to her face, a desperate attempt to muffle her sobs.

(Hands this dirty don't _deserve_ to be touched.)

iii. She hadn't even needed to ask him.

She stares up to meet his gaze, her face an orangey-yellow in the firelight. His own is a blazing red and is strewn with deep crevices of anger. He's so confused. Her jaw hurts from clenching it. She was stupid to think she could keep him forever. That she could hold onto him because she loved him and wasn't that enough?

The words are burning in the back of her throat–_no, don't do it, don't leave me_–but she swallows them down. They all know what's coming. It's imminent; an impending doom that gathers above her head like a rain cloud. She heaves a gloomy sigh though her heart is pounding against her rib cage.

_Destiny,_ she thinks, as her fists curl and uncurl. It's not fair. His destiny lies with another's and hers is stuck in the same labyrinth that it's been in for the past million years. She was never one for believing in reincarnation, but now she knows that she must've been a horrible human being in her past life.

The irony of history repeating itself is too cruel to linger on.

iv. They are children fighting an adult's war.

"Our generation is making the same mistake as the past one…growing up in a completely one-sided environment and believing in the propaganda we've been fed, only to reach adulthood and realize that it's all rubbish, but be already too deeply entrenched in battle to do anything but fight for our lives." He spits out, not even attempting to control his rage. She knows he's right. But she doesn't want him to be. She doesn't want to lose him.

"You're not the only one who's going to die out there." She fingers the cool knives inside her long, black sleeves. "It's kill or be killed. You can't waste time feeling sorry for the other side."

His face is disbelieving. She wants to hold it in her hands. "What other side?" he retorts, "We're just children."

"You, of all people, should understand that you are _more_ than just a child. We have just as much right as any to fight for the ones we love. I'm willing to die for _you_ because it's the right thing to do."

He snorts, and his hair tousles slightly. "I wondered when you'd get around to the eventual ethical argument. Right and wrong." He snorts again. "There's no difference."

"Funny, that's exactly what your sister told me," he glares at her but she continues. "She said there is no right and wrong, only power and those strong enough to wield it. Is that what little Prince of the Fire Nation believes?"

"Power is an illusion."

"Oh," she smirks (emotion, it's so good to show it again), "so you _don't_ plan on becoming the Fire Lord?"

"Don't make this about me." He scowls at her. A scowl that might've made Azula cringe but she keeps strong.

"What did you happen to think we were talking about, Your Highness?"

He stares blankly at her, and she gets the feeling this is what she usually looks like. It's unnerving. She wishes he would tell her what he was feeling; what was going on in his head.

"Zuko."

He keeps walking.

v. _I don't want you to leave._

She watches him walk down the corridor, a black cloak covering his even blacker hair. She can't see his eyes where she's standing, but she can imagine them. Sharp, darting from wall to wall; keen buttery gold orbs that send shivers down her spine.

Her clutch on a needle tightens.

The letter sits untouched on the desk. She doesn't need to read it to know what it says. She wonders if he ever really felt something for her or if she was just a distraction, something to keep him from straying. Azula said she should keep watch over him. What a fantastic job she had been doing.

_Parting is such sweet sorrow,_ she thinks sarcastically.

"Go," she whispers into the cool night air of the palace. "Go and find the Avatar." The wind whips the black hair she's always hated around her face.

"Go and find your destiny."


	3. Rush & Siege

A/N: dude. This is like my drabble dump of random pairings. I'm digging it. Get ready for some Urzai! Woo-woo! (So, um. Is this post-war or au? I've no idea. Crazy/badass/assassin Ursa is pimp though)

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**Rush & Siege**

"You forget your place," he hisses angrily, his eyes narrowed and fierce. Her manicured fingers pull the juicy, red dragon heart from between her lips. "No," she whispers, her tongue trailing over her bottom lip, gathering the sweet juices left from the fruit. Her dark eyes flicker up to his own and she bites harshly into the heart.

"You forget _yours_."

He chuckles humorlessly, raising his chin with as much dignity as he can muster with his hands chained behind his back. "Oh, Ursa," he sighs, "we both know you can't do it." He has the upper hand now.

Her face shows no emotion and she doesn't utter a word. "Ursa, darling, tell me what it is you desire so we can put this whole misunderstanding behind us."

Ursa stands up abruptly, fists clenched. "_Misunderstanding?_ You **burnt** him! You burnt my baby boy and you think that I am unable to _understand _that?"

He opens his mouth the speak, but she's not finished. "I _desire_ for him to be whole! I _desire_ to have your head on a pike! I _desire_–"

"Darling, although I admire your spirit (where has it been hiding all this time?), these things are _nearly _impossible."

He neglects to mention that her second wish is _so very_ possible. He is, after all, a bit tied up at the moment.

"Why?" she asks, her voice shaking and vulnerable. "Why would you do that to him?"

His eyes refuse to meet hers. "My dear," he begins, "it was only a matter of time. He was weak. Small. Unfit to rule a nation."

Ursa's breathing is in quick, short gasps. "How. Could. You. _You monster!_"

Then her slender fingers are around his neck. She can feel his pulse quicken beneath her touch. His eyes are wide–he's scared. He starts to choke and his ruddy face turns an unnatural shade of purple.

_Breathe, Ursa, breathe._

Her hands tighten their grip. "I _loved_ you, Ozai. Agni forbid, I _loved_ you and you _used _me. You used me and _betrayed _me! I'm nothing but a producer of heirs! A toy!"

"No," his voice is strangled. "You were my _everything_. And he took that from me. I couldn't forgive him. I can _never_ forgive him. He took the one thing I loved."

And then he is gone.

The second hardest thing in life is to lose a loved one. The hardest is moving on after that loss.


	4. What is Time

A/N: in which i attempt to drabble the extremely adorable pairing Taang. I just _love_ them together, but i made this a bit more mature. less cutesy. i apologize for the toph ooc-ness, but i imagine that her parents don't want her to be with the avatar and she's probably pretty afraid of commitment. and who do the air nomads believe in? i do not know. so aang believe's in God. there you go.

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**What is Time?  
Is it the air we breathe, or the wings that teach  
a new born bird to fly?**

**A Promise Never Kept**

"If I tell you I love you, will you stay?"

He knows her answer before he even asks, but feels compelled to despite the ache he knows will come alongside it.

A soft "no" leaves her pink lips like a sigh. He shudders and pulls her closer. The delicious forbidden love they're creating makes his heart beat erratically and the feeling of her pressed against him calms him just the slightest bit–even if it's a fake sort of calm. She burrows deeper into his chest, her voice soft and strangely shaking.

"But tell me anyways."

**A Secret Never Told**

Her sleeping form fits against him so perfectly and her head tucks under his chin and her skin smells of sweet lilacs; he gets the distinct feeling that they were made for each other. His fingers gently brush up and down her arm, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. A heartsick sigh escapes before he can think to rein it in. She would probably scold him for being silly. She was never one for romance.

She curls in deeper, her hands clutching the fabric of his shirt. She reminds him of fragile glass, so delicate, so breakable, so unlike how she really is. But despite how she portrays herself, she most certainly is something to keep safe. To cherish.

To love.

He tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, wishing pathetically that she was his to protect. She's not, nor ever will be, and this revelation hurts infinitely worse than he would have expected.

**A Desire Never Filled**

The first crash of his mouth upon hers was frantic and desperate, as though he were drowning and she was his source of air; but he's not and she's not because they aren't and it's no longer a matter of like or as because they go deeper than similes. They go deeper than fingers interlocked and hearts intertwined.

Later, when she smiles at him secretly, batting her lashes and giggling uncharacteristically, he realizes that if he were really drowning, she'd be more than just his air.

She _is_ more than just his air.

She is the world, the revolution, the savior, the healer, the sky, and she is his everything.

She disappears into the crowd and he can't help but feel horribly disappointed; he's left with a dry mouth, an abyss of emptiness inside him, and an echo of his soul slithering away.

She can survive without him.

_Some things,_ he thinks, _are better ended before they've ever truly begun._

**A Love Never Sated**

"God made you the way you are. And, amazingly enough, He made someone who'll love you just for that reason."

She smiles tooth-achingly sweet through her thick, thick eyelashes and refrains from laughing like a school girl. She's not a school girl.

"It's a nice enough thought," she retorts, tugging at a hangnail distractedly, "but do you really believe that?"

He opens his mouth to reply but she cuts him off. She's been hurt enough times. "Do you truly believe that out there, there is someone meant for you?" The corner of his mouth twitches upward almost mockingly.

"Fate."

A frustrated growl escapes her pursed lips. "Fate," she repeats, a frown beginning to take root, "of course." He pulls her to him but she breaks away, staring off into the distance that only she can see. Her voice continues,

"Fate tells you that everything you do is preordained, that you can't make a difference, and you'll die anyways, and for nothing."

She now looks back at him, her eyes glittering. He reaches for her. She resists.

"It's a cruel game you're playing and I'm no good."

**A Bond Never Broken **

He will always be there to pick up the pieces no matter how the shards slice his fingers.

He gives her hand a tender squeeze and averts his gaze because one look in his tender grey eyes and she'll know. She'll know that it was never over. She'll know that she knew that it was never over.

She cries into his chest, ignoring the tug at her heartstrings and the voice whispering in her mind, telling her how right this was. She's tearing apart at the seams and losing her grip on what should be and what is.

"I'm sorry," he coos into her hair.

She looks up at him, confusion laced into her knitted eyebrows.

"For loving you," his hand finds her chin and his breath is warm, spreading out over her cheeks like butterfly wings.

She pulls him closer and is reminded of a time before. Her heart beats so strongly she's afraid it might burst in her chest. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she gazes up at him with open eyes (no more secrets), "If I tell you I love you…"

Her words trail of significantly. It's so simple, really, but it makes his heart clench and his hands do uncontrollable things like snake around her waist in return. It won't last forever, but for now…it's enough.

He holds onto her (for dear life), because, for once, there's nothing left to say.

Fin.


	5. Kaeve

A/N: uhm. yeah. emo/cracked-out katara=silliness. yes, i'm aware of the suckageness of this one. bare with me and i'll get some better drabbles out. if only for the sake of my own accomplishment. :)

fun fact: kaeve-chokehold/strangle in danish. **

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kaeve

i. she doesn't understand.

she loves him. she loves the way his arrows glow blue and shimmer and wrap around his arms like a familiar skin. she loves the stubble on his bald head when he runs out of time and forgets to shave in the morning. she loves his voice. she loves his smile. she loves his steely grey eyes and the way he used to kiss her lightly on the forehead—like she was fragile and something worth protecting. she loves how protective he is.

he comes home everyday with a painfully sorrowful expression on his features and a frown that drags him down down down. her heart aches at the sight of him. "how did the meeting go? did they agree to stop the riots peacefully?" she would ask, same thing almost every time.

he'd look at her skeptically. "no."

his blue arrows pointed downwards like the corners of his mouth and oh yue, she'd do anything to see him smile now, anything. the war has turned her cheerful avatar into a weathered old man. he's seventeen, not sixty. but his smoothsmooth hands are now rough and calloused. she wants to heal his hands like she wants to heal his heart. he's her little boy, nothing will change that. but everything is different now.

everything.

"oh, well how long are we staying here then?"

"i. don't. know."

"well maybe if you just talked to Bumi or Kuei or—" his eyes flashed cold and hard, piercing her milky tea skin like mai's poisoned daggers. she flinches back and his pink lips thin out into a firm line.

"Katara. Just—don't. i'm not in the mood for this right now." she gives him a lopsided smile and nods her head slightly. pleasepleaspleasplease i need you, aang. _aang! _

ii. her saviour is her villian.

she's got purple hearts along her jugular and green hearts along her inner thighs. it takes too long to heal them, no one will notice anyway.

he doesn't kiss her anymore. its probably the stupidest thing to be so concerned about but it just kills her to know that he doesn't want her enough to kiss her. she doesn't want gratuious amounts of affection. just a light press to the temple or a simple hand on her cheek. its as if hes repulsed by her.

shes repulsed by herself.

maybe shes too fat. too skinny. too dark too blue too frizzy too loud too ugly too much and too not enough. she takes shards of ice and traces puckered scars on the backs of her knees and laughs when the blood splatters on the snow because she remembers when she used to hate blood and now she can bend it to her will. irony is sich a fickle thing.

so is the heart.

iii. 'count your blessings, katara.'

1) I'm with aang

2) my family loves me

3) the war is over

4) the south pole is okay

5) everyone is safe now.

she'd count past five but the fingers on her other hand are broken.

vi. he leaves her.

he just takes off in the middle of the night with his glider without a word and she wakes up the next day to an empty bed. she feels strangely relieved and yet horridly broken. it starts at her scars and cracks three ribs on its way to her heart.

her head spins and all she sees is red. redredred. did you know its become her favourite colour?

he leaves no note.

no 'i love you but im leaving'

or

'i'll be back in a few days.'

of all the things aang did, he never once lied to her.

v. she somehow finds herself in the firenation.

toph is there helping with the rebelling farmers and zuko is there busy with fire lord business and mai is there doing whatever it is she does. the best part is the lack of one grey eyed avatar that shes in love with.

she stumbles upon the palace and crashes into what was probably a very important meeting but aang left her and isn't that more important? and where the hell is toph?

"katara?" the fire lord stands up and she rushes to him, buries her face in his familiar scent and silk. its so different and she feels safe in what feels like the first time in a long time. no words need to be said.

she's free from her own chokehold; she can finally breathe.


End file.
